


The Run and Go

by humanities_angstiest



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Any tags I’m missing you guys think I should add?, Biting, Depressed Eren Yeager, Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Jean Kirstein & Eren Yeager Friendship, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Not Happy, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Timeline What Timeline, Unless I make this JeanEren hurt/comfort in which case there will be comfort, referenced alcoholism but not for main characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanities_angstiest/pseuds/humanities_angstiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren might be depressed. He doesn’t think that term applies to him, but the evidence is stacking up against him. His mind is darker than he reckons it should be and though he never confides his feelings to anyone, actions speak louder than words, or so the saying goes. Jean is concerned about him, but opening up about all his problems is nerve-wracking. He doesn’t want to be treated differently. With so many things dragging Eren down,  he eventually might not have a choice in whether he wants to confide in someone or not. </p><p> </p><p>Sorry about the summary, I tried. This is experimental writing, its very much in Eren’s head and there isn’t a lot of dialogue or plot in later chapters though I’m trying to fix that going forward. Beware the tags if you have triggers. Thanks for reading!</p><p>**DISCONTINUED**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don’t wanna call you in the nighttime

The urge was back.

It no longer came solely when Eren was stressed, an outlet for his emotions, a way to freeze his overactive mind and regain control over his life.

Ha. It seemed he had lost control of his life, the urge to bite grabbing the reins.

He sat with his friends, forcing a smile when Jean threw a fit over Armin charging him $2 million for landing on his hotels in Monopoly. It was painful to force, but he smiled anyway. It would worry his friends if they were laughing but he sat there with his empty eyes and downturned mouth.

Though the smile was forced, it really was more for his sake than his friends’. There was nothing worse than people worrying over him, asking him what was wrong when he wouldn’t, couldn’t talk about it. He barely understood it himself.

All Eren knew was that the urge to bite himself had returned and it was sucking up all his attention. He mindlessly rolled the die and moved his game piece, not caring how much money he had to pay Mikasa for landing on her property.

He had some time before his next turn. Armin would roll next, followed by Mikasa, Marco, and Jean.

Eren announced that he was going to the bathroom, feeling he couldn’t leave wordlessly in the middle of the game. It seemed he was wrong, no one paid him much mind as he departed.

Eren would have preferred to be in the solitude of his dorm room, but his friends decided to have a sleepover at Jean and Marco’s apartment to enjoy one of the few remaining carefree weekends before they began preparing for final exams.

Eren locked the bathroom door behind him, paranoid that someone would open it without knocking first. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering what was wrong with him that made him want to harm himself.

Eren rolled his t-shirt sleeve up, baring his upper arm and shoulder. The marks he made two weeks ago were faded now, hardly noticeable to any but the discerning eye that knew what to look for. Eren doubted such a person existed, it really was a strange habit he had developed. Cutting and burning — everyone was familiar with those. Those were dead giveaways that the person’s mental health was unstable. Biting? No one knew.

Eren discovered this unhealthy habit by accident. He had been watching a scary movie, wanting something to bite into to muffle his surprised screams, and when his hand proved insufficient, he used his arm. That night while brushing his teeth, under the bright bathroom lights, Eren spotted the red bruises on his arm caused by his biting.

It was strangely captivating, these marks that he had inflicted on his body. They weren’t even difficult to create, especially if he was making them on the meatier part of his upper arm. His forearm was another story. The skin there was thinner and he had to bite harder to make a lasting mark. It was painful, making him want to stop, but at the same time the pain was welcome. It was a feeling.

That was two semesters ago, around the end of his sophomore year of college. Around that time, he fell into a depression. It didn’t happen frequently, and often lasted less than two weeks, but he would avoid social interaction and couldn’t find the desire to eat. The depression made studying for final exams harder. He couldn’t fail, he had to get A’s, but he also couldn’t find the motivation to do his work. It had only been two years of college but already he was burnt out. The biting was a way to relieve the stress as he studied for exams. Despite the minor setback of depression, he received all A’s, the first semester since entering college.

Since then, the urge to bite was constantly at the back of his mind. He would be reading a book when suddenly the desire to mark his body overtook him. He fought it, not having a reason to in the summer and also not wanting to have to hide them. He slipped up once, over the summer. For no reason other than to feel the sensation of his teeth digging into his flesh, causing blood vessels to break and leaving reddish marks in their place, he lost himself, creating more marks than he intended. When his mind returned, he counted twelve marks spread across both arms.

The next day, Armin came over to play video games. Unthinkingly, Eren shed his light sweatshirt in the face of the summer heat. A gasp from Armin distracted him from the game, causing his character to die from overwhelming enemy fire while he turned to face his friend who had stopped playing.

“What happened to your arms?”

Eren looked down, remembering the bruises he made last night, now on display to his intelligent best friend. He played dumb, laughing and saying he had no clue where they came from, citing his clumsiness as a likely cause.

Armin was concerned, but didn’t press the matter. Since that time, Eren tried to think up believable excuses for why he had bruises across his arms. Usually he only bit his left arm, it being his non-dominant arm, but when the urge was strong, he ran out of room on his left and had to start biting his right.

Sometimes, he purposely made patterns in his skin. He would bite a trail up his left forearm, keeping his teeth closed tightly together so the result was a thin red line, instead of the circular bruises he made on his upper arm from biting with a wider mouth. From a distance, the line could easily be mistaken as a long cut. Unless a person touched his skin and noticed it wasn’t broken, they would assume the red line was a cut.

It was sick, mimicking a self-harm mark. But as he thought about it, it was more odd than anything, because wasn’t he just making his self-harm mark look like another type of self-harm mark? It gave him a strange thrill when he looked down at his arm and saw it. Proof of his pain? Perhaps that was why he did it. No one noticed his fake smiles, no one knew about the nights he woke up from nightmares where he was accused of killing someone or someone was trying to kill him, no one knew how badly it messed him up when he couldn’t fall asleep at night and he seriously contemplated banging his head against the wall until he fell unconscious and could rest.

Eren never did think of a believable excuse, but oddly enough, no one seemed to notice the marks. Gradually, Eren stopped obsessing over wearing long sleeves to hide them. He wasn’t about to announce what he was really doing, locked in his friends’ bathroom, but he also wasn’t too concerned about people seeing his marks. His fake smiles were convincing, and no one would think their happy friend was secretly self-harming.

That in itself was strange to think, that he, Eren Jaeger, self-harmed. He hardly considered biting on the same level as cutting his wrists or burning himself with a lighter. So long as he didn’t engage in those activities, he was fine. Biting had no lasting harm, it only bruised him, and bruises eventually faded, hiding all evidence of what he did behind closed doors. That was how he convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with him. Some days he didn’t admit that biting was self-harm, it was just an odd habit.

Finding no answers to explain his behavior in his reflection, Eren lowered the toilet seat lid and sat down. He hadn’t been in the bathroom too long, maybe two minutes, but he knew someone would look for him when it was his turn to roll again.

Eren latched his teeth onto his shoulder, biting down and holding that position until he was satisfied, pulling back to admire the red bruise. It always looked so pretty on the first day, a bright red mark like blood. Gradually it darkened to a purplish shade, a standard bruise that Eren hated. In the moment, he loved the red mark but with the passing days he felt ashamed, knowing he was damaged, questioning if he was doing it to seek attention and hating that thought. He would die from embarrassment if someone found out and confronted him about it, telling him he should seek therapy. At the same time, he liked having his marks on display, letting people see them and wonder what caused them. It was a dangerous game, giving people the opportunity to confront him about the bruises, but he still played it. Maybe he was seeking attention.

One bite wasn’t enough, it never was these days. He created a second bruise slightly below the first, followed by another and another. When Eren rolled down his shirt sleeve, the last bruise peaked out from the hem, but not enough that it would draw attention.

A resounding knock on the bathroom door startled Eren, Jean’s voice on the other side asking if he was okay. Eren checked his expression once more in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m fine. I was just using the bathroom.” Eren gave a small smile to cover his jittery nerves. He wasn’t nervous that Jean could have caught him biting himself, he could explain it away if he needed to. It was having to return to a social mindset that put him on edge. He was forced to adjust quickly, from his toxic solitude to being the jovial, loud-mouthed guy his friends expected to see.

“Well it’s your turn to roll. It has been for a while. When you didn’t come back, Mikasa sent me to check on you. Let’s get back so I can kick your ass in Monopoly.”

A real smile, though small, flashed across Eren’s features, the familiar competition between him and Jean relaxing him into his usual self. “Ha. I’ll remember you said that when you come begging for a loan to avoid bankruptcy.”

“Pfft. In your dreams, Jaeger. You’re worse at this game than I am. What do you own, three properties? And no hotels on any of them? Yeah, sure, I’ll be the one begging.”

Eren jabbed Jean in the side with his elbow, earning himself a returning blow and a smile.

When they returned to the living room, the board game was abandoned. Marco, Armin, and Mikasa had relocated to the couch to watch a movie with Sasha and Connie.

Eren didn’t feel like watching a movie but at least with the lights off and everyone’s eyes on the screen, no one would be paying attention to him.

Absentmindedly, Eren ran his thumbnail across his wrist, scratching at the skin. It was another habit he picked up, liking the feel of his veins shifting under his pressing nail. His nails weren’t sharp enough to do anything, only turn the skin pink from being scratched repeatedly in a left and right motion. The thought of sharp nails cutting open the thin skin of his wrist freaked him out, causing his face to scrunch up and his eyes to squeeze shut in an effort to reject the image.

“You okay?” Jean nudged him on the shoulder to get his attention, whispering so they wouldn’t distract their friends who were thoroughly invested in the Marvel film.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just thought of something gross.”

“I thought you’d be used to gross things at this point, after seeing your reflection every day,” Jean smirked.

Eren knew Jean was joking, but his mood shifted at night. He no longer had the energy to hold himself together, too tired to laugh off Jean’s teasing or think of a comeback. Occasionally he spaced out, hearing everything around him though his eyes focused unblinkingly in front of him.

“I’m going to get some water.”

Jean stared at him confusedly, before shrugging off his friend’s behavior and returning his attention to the movie.

The apartment Marco and Jean shared was small: two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. At least in the kitchen Eren would be behind a wall, hidden from curious eyes and able to breathe easier.

He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, twisting the sink knob until cold water poured out. Eren drank a few sips, but the coldness was unwelcome. Sometimes water was refreshing, but often when he entered this mood, he didn’t want any external forces affecting him. It was difficult for him to understand, his best guess being that any drink or food filled him and changed the feeling of his body. Being hungry and thirsty was the closest he could get his body to mimic the intangible emptiness inside.

He remained in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his back against the fridge, listening to the sounds of the film until the credits rolled. No one came to look for him in all that time, making him further depressed yet grateful at the same time. Sometimes he hated himself for the inconsistency of his feelings.

“Hey Eren, we’re all setting up our sleeping bags now. Sasha, Connie, and Mikasa already claimed the couch. I’m going to set up in Marco’s room, are you fine sleeping in Jean’s room?”

Not for the first time tonight, Eren really wished he could go sleep in his own dorm. He just had to tough it out for a few more hours, then he could lock himself in his room and cite his upcoming tests as an excuse for why he couldn’t grab dinner or hang out. Grab-N-Go meals were a blessing, allowing him to stock up his fridge with food for days, supporting his antisocial tendencies.

“Yeah, that’s fine. He in his room already?”

“I think so.”

Eren nodded, lifting himself off the cold kitchen tiles to grab his sleeping bag by the front door and carrying it to Jean’s room down the hall.

Jean was gathering the clothes off his floor, clearing a space for Eren to sleep.

Everyone was tired, accepting the dreamworld as it pulled them in. Though he tried, Eren could not fall asleep. He switched positions, lying on his side then his back then his stomach then his other side. The neon lights of Jean’s alarm clock glowed 4:04 AM. He needed to sleep otherwise he’d be too exhausted to do anything productive later in the day.

Eren felt like crying from frustration. His mind said nothing yet it felt like it wouldn’t shut up. _Those_ thoughts returned, that maybe if he smacked his head against the floor he could knock himself out.

It was tempting, but he doubted it would work. Most probable conclusion would be a raging headache.

“What the fuck, Eren. Stop moving around so much and fall asleep.”

“I can’t, asshole,” he bit out, infuriated that Jean made it sound so simple.

Jean turned on his side to face Eren, his features lit up from the alarm clock’s glow.

“Tried counting sheep?” he suggested.

“No, that wouldn’t fucking…It’s not…”

Jean remained silent, waiting for Eren to speak, but the green-eyed male was silent as well, having given up the effort to explain what was keeping him awake.

“Want to talk until you get tired?”

Unable to think of an alternative, Eren softly replied, “…Yeah. Thanks, Jean.”

“No problem. Anything you want to talk about in particular?”

“No. Just, distract me.”

“Okay,…Did you know that Marco is missing a toe on his right foot?”

“What?! Is that true?”

“No clue. He’s always wearing socks so I just made a guess as to why.”

“Why on the right side?”

“No reason, really. Maybe because he always gets injured on his right side? He broke his right arm last year and in high school he broke his right foot playing soccer.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey Eren.” Eren waited for Jean to say more before realizing that his friend was waiting for a confirmation that he was listening.

“Yeah?”

Eren waited again, but Jean was silent. He almost thought the other had fallen asleep, but then Jean spoke.

“…You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

Eren’s pulse increased while his body went rigid, not wanting to make a careless move.

“Probably,” was the best response he could give. He didn’t want to lie to Jean.

“What’s this ‘probably’ shit? I know we fight sometimes, but we’re friends. You know I care about you and would help you if something was bothering you, right?”

Eren smiled to himself. “Yeah, I know. Thanks Jean. I’m feeling tired now, so I’m going to try falling asleep.” He turned his back to Jean and curled into a ball.

“Night, Eren.” Jean’s voice sounded uncertain, as if he could tell Eren was hiding something but unsure if he should press him to open up or not.

Eren managed a fitful sleep, sleeping for a few hours before waking up groggy and falling back asleep in a restless pattern.

When Jean’s clock read 9:02 AM, Eren figured it was an acceptable time to get up and shower. His friends were all still snuggled into their sleeping bags or sprawled across the living room couch.

Eren borrowed a towel from the bathroom closet and wrapped it around his waist as he padded softly back to Jean’s room, shutting the door gently behind him. Soft morning light illuminated the room, slipping through the space where Jean had not pulled his curtains closed.

Eren dressed in a clean pair of boxers before dropping the towel on the floor. He was rustling through his backpack, having put on jeans but missing a clean shirt when he noticed Jean staring at him.

“Morning,” he greeted, not stopping his search. At the very bottom of his bag, he found the shirt he remembered packing the day before.

“Eren, what happened to your arm?”

Eren calmly put his shirt on, experience showing him that playing dumb always worked.

“Oh, I ran into a door.” He rifled through his bag again in search of socks, thinking the conversation was over until Jean said,

“Is that what really happened?”

“Uh huh.” Eren rolled his eyes, annoyed. He didn’t try too hard to hide his marks, but he never wanted to be confronted about them. It made him feel embarrassed — there was nothing wrong with him, he didn’t need people to walk on eggshells around him.

His back was turned to Jean, so he didn’t see Jean get out of bed and approach him. One instant he was leaned over his bag searching for socks, the next he was flat on the ground, Jean pinning him down by his wrists and sitting on his legs so he couldn’t flip him off.

With one hand still pinning Eren’s wrists above his head, Jean used the other to slide his hand under Eren’s shirt.

“Hah, Jean, I didn’t know you liked me like this,” Eren teased, trying to distract Jean. If Jean spluttered a protest, it would be enough of a diversion for Eren to break from his hold and run out the door.

No such luck. As Eren's shirt continued to lift, his fears of what Jean was doing were confirmed. Jean had the shirt up to Eren's head, Eren shaking his head back and forth to prevent Jean from raising it higher but eventually Jean succeeded. Jean left the shirt bunched up by Eren's wrists, everything he wanted to see already visible. The marks Eren made last night were still eye-catching, though not as bright and blood red as they were hours ago, time dulling the shade. They were all on his left shoulder, splotches of pale red scattered in an uneven line.

"A door did this, huh?"

Tears of frustration and embarrassment gathered at the corners of his eyes and Eren fought them from falling as Jean stared at the marks, thinking of what could have caused the strangely placed bruises and why Eren was so defensive about them. He looked to Eren for the answer, whose head was turned away from Jean. Jean was shocked to see a tear slip from his friend's eyes. Eren squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to press the tears back into his tear ducts. He always cried when he was frustrated and he hated it. He took calming breaths, realizing there was nothing for him to get worked up about. Jean didn't know his secret, he just thought he knew something. Jean couldn't prove anything.

"Are you done assaulting me now?" Eren spit.

Jean released Eren's wrists slowly and sat back so Eren could lift his upper body slightly. Eren tugged his shirt back on and glared at Jean, who lifted himself off of Eren's lap and extended a hand to help his friend up. Eren scoffed at the proffered hand and stood up on his own.

"Eren..."

Eren ignored him, continuing his search for his socks and putting them on, gathering all his other belongings as Jean stared at him, searching for a delicate way to start the conversation.

"Eren, I'm your friend. You can talk--"

"Yeah?" Eren whipped his head around to shoot a seething look at Jean who recoiled. "You're my friend? Is that why you pushed me down and stripped me, giving no regards to my privacy? You're a piece of nosy horseshit and I don't have to tell you anything I don't want to. Being someone's friend doesn't give you the right to find out everything about that person, and we're not even friends anymore so you have absolutely no right to know anything about me."

"Wha...Eren!" Jean followed Eren as he marched to the front door, slipping on his sneakers. "Eren, I'm sorry. Please, don't leave, let me--"

"Don't ever speak to me again. Lose my number. I don't want to see you ever again. I fucking hate you, Jean Kirschstein."

Eren slammed the door in Jean's pale face and ran. He ran until his chest hurt and kept running until he was back on campus at his dorm. With the door to his room locked behind him and the shades pulled down, Eren flopped onto his bed and cried into his pillow. He just lost one of his closest friends because of his uncontrollable anger. He knew he would regret the words as he said them, but he couldn't stop himself. He was embarrassed that Jean saw his shameful habit and he reacted with anger, wanting Jean to hurt as much as he did, but it only made him feel worse.

His crying put him to sleep along with the tiredness from not sleeping enough last night, until he was awoken by the insistent knocking on his door. Eren thought about not answering it, but Armin's voice called to him from the other side, asking him to answer the door before he called the RA. Sighing, Eren rolled off his bed and unlocked the door, raising a hand to block his eyes from the harsh hallway light.

"Were you sleeping?" Armin asked, peering behind Eren's frame into the dark dorm room.

"Mhm. What's so urgent that you're pounding on my door?"

"Oh, uh, Jean told me to check on you. He—“

Eren started to shut his door but Armin's hand stopped him.

"Hey! What happened? Did you and Jean have another fight? You know you can talk to me about—“

"Oh my god!" Eren cut in. "Everyone needs to stop fucking asking me if I'm okay and if I want to talk. I swear to fucking god I will punch the next person who asks me that."

Armin tripped back a little in surprise at Eren's anger. His friend didn't look well, being woken from a nap making him more tired than normal. He looked drained despite his anger, as if one more wrong word would break him. Armin decided to drop the topic, leaving whatever happened between Jean and Eren to them to fix. He was concerned when Jean asked him to check on Eren and seeing Eren now he realized it was a good thing Jean sent him.

"It's almost 5 o'clock. Want to get dinner with me and Mikasa?"

"No." There was no deliberation on Eren's part. He wanted to finish this conversation and be left alone. "Thanks for the offer but I'm not hungry."

"Oh. Okay. I'll see you—“ Armin didn't have a chance to finish his farewell, the door being shut and locked in his face. Perplexed, Armin considered knocking again and forcing Eren to come eat with them, but maybe this wasn't one of the moods a friend could fix, or needed to fix. It just needed to pass.

Eren regretted turning down Armin's offer an hour later when his stomach rumbled, but he abhorred the thought of going to the dining halls alone. He found a bag of Cape Cod chips in his room which he ate, but the salt only heightened his hunger. He fell into a restless sleep, feeling tired but unable to sleep because he slept all day, jolts of hunger pain adding to the mix. Eren lifted the sleeve of his shirt and bit hard into his arm, keeping his mouth clamped on that one spot until the tension in his jaw hurt. He curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his head, and fell asleep.


	2. Don’t wanna give you all my pieces

Message Received From: Jean  
Time: 6:02 PM  
I'm sorry Eren for forcing you like that. I won't do it ever again. Please let me make it up to you. Ice cream sundaes and a movie?

 

Eren reread Jean's text for the ninth time as he lay in bed, contemplating his options. He didn't want to hang out, and not just because of what happened. Even if Jean hadn't pressed him about the marks, Eren still would have felt more content to lie in bed all day watching anime on his laptop than get dressed and relax with a friend. Not even the mention of food could entice him. Eventually he responded, telling Jean he would be over at nine. Eren's heard the saying that there is always a choice — he could have chosen to stay home, for example — but that's not entirely true. His circumstances were such that his more favored choice would worsen his life if he pursued it. Even if he told Jean that he forgave him but was too tired to hang out today, Jean would figure it was a fictitious salve to their situation, granting forgiveness but not willing to mend their relationship. Despite Eren's anger and embarrassment from Saturday morning, he regretted the words he spoke to Jean. They had been friends since middle school, and Eren couldn't discard him as easily as he could someone else.

Eren trudged to Jean's apartment, forcing his feet to make each step, but then quickening his pace as the creeping winter chill shimmied under his light fall jacket. His nose was slightly red from the cold air and he wiped the wetness on his sleeve. Jean opened the door after the first two knocks, anticipating Eren's arrival.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They stood at the doorway, Jean nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip before he startled, remembering that he was blocking the entrance. He stepped aside and held the door open for Eren to enter.

"Do you, uh, want to make sundaes now and then start a movie?"

"Sure."

Eren followed Jean into the kitchen where an impressive assortment of toppings was spread out. Jean must really be worried about their friendship if he spent this much of his food budget on ice cream toppings. There were chocolate and rainbow sprinkles, whipped cream, hard shell, fudge, gummy bears, crushed oreos, reeses pieces, and maraschino cherries. From the freezer Jean withdrew three flavors of ice cream: coffee, mint chocolate chip, and chocolate chip cookie dough.

"Wow," was all Eren could think to say, but it seemed to calm Jean's nerves a bit. They filled their bowls with ice cream and went overboard on the toppings. Eren was surprised that Jean hadn't nabbed a cherry from his bowl like he normally would have, treading carefully after what Eren said the other night.

"Where's Marco?" he asked as they moved to the living room and settled on the couch.

"He's staying over at Armin's."

"Oh."

They had the apartment to themselves, complete privacy to discuss anything. Eren lifted his legs from the floor and folded them against his chest, resting his ice cream bowl on his knees.

"What movie do you want to watch?" Jean asked in a single breath, noting Eren's increasingly dour mood upon realizing it was just them. Things were unbearably awkward between them. They had fought plenty of times growing up, too stubborn and competitive to admit they were wrong, but even then they sat in grumpy silence with each other and mended their friendship over junk food and television. Jean knew this wasn't like those times. He didn't understand completely why Eren had gotten so mad, but he clearly didn't want to discuss it. Later, Jean told himself. Mending his relationship with Eren came before his concerned curiosity.

Eren shrugged a careless shoulder. Instead of going to Netflix like they usually did, Jean went to Comcast and scanned the new movie titles.

"What are you doing?" There was no reason to pay for a movie.

"Wasn't there a movie that came out a while ago you wanted to see? I'm checking if it's here."

Eren sighed, wanting to erase the awkwardness as soon as possible before Jean paid for anything else unnecessary in the attempts to win back his favor which he never truly lost. Eren tugged the remote out of Jean's hand and exited Comcast, scanning the titles on Netflix instead. Without confirming the choice with Jean, who he knew would agree to whatever he proposed anyway, Eren clicked on _It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia_.

Jean couldn't act like himself. He didn't know where he stood with Eren. Would laughing at the show annoy Eren, or was remaining quiet worse because it drew attention to the heavy silence between them? Halfway through the episode, Jean was strung too tightly, and regardless of consequences he needed to know what Eren was thinking or else he would be stuck second-guessing his actions for the rest of the night.

Jean turned to the side to face Eren and saw Eren's jaw tense in recognition that Jean wanted to talk, but he remained staring stony-faced at the television, the humor of the show not registering in his brain as the only thing he thought of was Jean staring at him.

"Eren."

Eren reluctantly turned his head away from the screen and to Jean, staring blankly in anticipation of a conversation he didn't want to have.

Jean shuffled, tucking one leg underneath him and Eren hesitated before doing the same, knowing he would be more comfortable facing Jean than keeping his neck turned to the side for however long this conversation would last.

"I was just wondering...where do we stand? What can I do to make you not hate me?" The words were spoken hoarsely, Jean's nerves closing up his throat and making it hard to speak.

Jean was relieved to see Eren's eyes lighten, probably because Jean didn't bring up the topic Eren obviously wanted to avoid.

"We're fine. I don't hate you. And," Eren glanced to the side of Jean’s head before focusing on Jean again, "I'm sorry for what I said. I haven't been sleeping well and I was tired and I overreacted."

Jean's mouth was faster than his brain and he asked, "Why did you get angry?"

"Because you kept trying to make a big deal out of nothing."

"Was it really nothing?" Jean figured because Eren had answered his previous questions with no incident, it was safe to broach the elephant in the room. This was not the case. Eren's eyes were furious, his hands fisted at his sides as he now stood above Jean who was rooted to the couch, regretting pushing Eren to give him answers. Before Eren had the chance to storm out again, Jean wrapped his long arms around Eren's waist and pulled him down to the couch so he was lying on his back, Jean leaning over him. Eren was surprised momentarily, that expression giving way to his original anger, but Jean stretched his legs out to lie beside Eren's and let his body fall, his head resting on Eren's chest. Eren's breath stilled. Jean didn't know what to do with his arms, so the one trapped between the back of the couch and their bodies he raised and let it rest next to Eren's head, occasionally brushing through Eren's hair. The other arm bent so his hand clasped Eren's shoulder. Jean smiled to himself at the feel and sound of Eren's heartbeat beneath his ear, speeding up.

"Uh, Jean..."

"Shh, I'm sleepy," Jean lied, letting his body become even slacker as it rested on top of Eren's.

Eren didn't move. He lay stiff beneath his friend's body, confused how Jean had managed to fix things. Not everything, Eren was still sure something inside him was broken, but at least this friendship wasn't. Slowly his body relaxed, helped along by Jean's hand carding through his hair, Jean's warm body like a blanket above him, and the steady rhythm of Jean's heartbeat thumping against his chest. Jean never moved, not repositioning himself or stopping his hand until Eren's breathing became barely audible, his chest rising and falling in a controlled pattern. After Eren fell asleep, Jean continued to run his fingers through Eren's thick, brown tresses. When his hand grew tired, Jean wrapped his limbs tighter around Eren's body and let his eyes close.

Marco's snickering woke Jean up, his best friend leaning over the back of the couch to watch his two friends cuddling. Armin owed him $20. Jean groggily lifted himself up, careful not to wake Eren. Marco had draped a blanket over them when he returned that morning, and Jean covered Eren with it before following Marco to the kitchen.

"How was your night?" Marco grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Jean had been distraught Saturday morning, moaning about how Eren hated him, and Marco did his best to convince Jean that wasn't true even though he had no clue what the fight had been about. Marco was glad to see his friends had made up.

Jean's eyes rolled at Marco above his pink cheeks. He opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, Marco's presence reminding him to get a glass as well. He was nearly finished with the glass when Eren shambled into the kitchen. He nodded his head at Marco in greeting as he sat beside him at the kitchen table.

"So Eren, looked like you and Jean made up." Or made out, Marco coughed into his arm.

It seemed to be in fashion, the response of rolling one's eyes while blushing. Jean carried another glass of orange juice to the table, setting it in front of Eren who smiled appreciatively at Jean. Marco watched the interaction with a knowing smile.

"Do you guys have any plans today?"

Jean and Eren looked to each other, then shook their heads at Marco.

"Cool. We were thinking of doing something this afternoon. Not sure what yet, but are you guys interested?"

"I'm in," Jean easily agreed.

"Um, I think I'll pass. I have some assignments—"

"Booo!" Jean and Marco interrupted.

"Come on Eren, take advantage of the long weekend and rest," Marco argued.

"That's easy for you to say when you're not a procrastinator and finished all your work on Friday."

"When's the assignment due?"

It was times like these Eren cursed Marco's friendliness. It made it that much harder to lie to him. "Thursday," he mumbled.

"Thursday? You still have Tuesday and Wednesday to do it. Glad that's all settled! I'll tell the gang you're coming."

Eren sighed to himself, putting on his fake smile for his friends. Too much social interaction was tiring him out and if Marco really thought he should use the weekend to rest, he'd leave him alone. As Eren thought this, he didn't notice Jean examining him.

"Oh, Armin just texted me. He says everyone agreed on getting food. Apparently they’re serving buffet style brunch at The Smiling Giant because of the holiday weekend."

"Let me guess who made the plans," Jean muttered. Not like anyone was against massive amounts of food on a college budget.

Eren brought his empty glass to the sink and mumbled about going home to shower and change, but Marco offered their shower and clothes. "We can all drive over together."

Not having a good excuse except for the truth that he wants to be alone, Eren acquiesced to Marco's bright smile and let the freckled boy grab him a towel.

There was no discernible cause for it, at least not one Eren's taken the time to psychoanalyze himself for, but sometimes a feeling of melancholy washed over him as he stood in the shower. Perhaps it was the small space heightening the feeling, but Eren felt immensely lonely. He missed his mother, who was only a phone call away. He should call her, though he has nothing new to share with her and feels bad when her idle chatter bores him. His friends are waiting for him, just beyond the bathroom door, but the depressive loneliness convinces him he is unwelcome in their space. They get along, but what really is friendship? If they knew how messed up he was, they would probably distance themselves from him until their friendship was a long-forgotten memory. He might do the same in their place. Being a support for someone else was a tiring burden.

People spoke of having their best ideas in the shower. Not Eren. The shower brought to mind all the thoughts he liked to sweep under the rug. Was he wrong for how he treated his father? Alcoholism was an addiction, a mental illness. His father was weak and needed support, not dismissal. The gentle patter of the shower water was hypnotic in the way it faded to the background, blocking out other sounds and allowing his mind to roam, roam to childhood memories of his father being his support when his mother didn't understand him. He was wrong to cast his father aside for his illness. He should forgive him and make an effort to rekindle their relationship. But he couldn't. His father would cling to the information Eren supplied about his life, using it to convince coworkers, family, and strangers that they were still a happy family, that Eren's mother hadn't kicked him out of the house and neither his wife nor son spoke to him unless strictly necessary. Eren flip flopped, feeling remorseful one moment for the way he treated his father, then justified the next, recalling the suffering he and his mother had gone through because of his father's addiction. No matter which emotion Eren followed, both paths ended at the same place, leaving him heavy-hearted.

The depression has set in his bones and he goes through the motions of washing himself. It's not until he is washing the shampoo out of his hair that Eren realizes his mistake. He didn't get a change of clothes from Marco before stepping in the shower. It's stupid, not a big deal, but Eren feels the pinpricks in his eyes. He wraps his arms around himself as he stands still under the spray.

"Eren, you almost done? Save some hot water for me, asshole." Jean accompanies his words with bangs on the door until Eren stutters that he will be right out. He grabs the towel Marco gave him and pats himself dry before freezing in place, not knowing what to do next. Eren yells through the door, informing Marco and Jean that he has nothing to wear.

"You can grab whatever you want from my drawer. Let me in so I can shower," Jean replies. Eren wonders if he'll be able to dart past Jean and Marco in his towel before they see the bruises on his shoulder. He doesn't want to risk it, but he may not have another choice.

"Just grab me anything, I don't care," Eren tries.

"Don't be ridiculous, Eren. We've all seen each other in swim trunks, a towel is no different. Get out here so Jean can shower and we can leave."

Eren gritted his teeth, hating his friends in that moment, but cracked open the door, having no other choice. He brushed past Jean and fast walked across the hall to Jean's room, closing the door behind him but not pushing hard enough for it to click in place, the door opening the smallest amount when Eren's back was turned. He grabbed a pair of boxers from Jean's drawer and shuffled through the shirts until he found a long sleeved dark green thermal he liked. In his hurry to escape, he left his dirty clothes in the bathroom, but he could retrieve his jeans once Jean was done showering.

The stress of the past few days was wrapped around him, accessorized by the depression the shower provided him with. Ironically, most of his weekend problems began when Jean caught sight of his self-harm marks, but those were exactly what he wanted right now. Eren put on the boxers but left the shirt off. He placed the skin of his shoulder between his jaws and bit down, loving the feel of his teeth sinking into his flesh. Eren wasn't sure if it was the biting or being bitten that he enjoyed. Maybe both. He made a few more marks on his shoulder where he could reach until his shoulder was an ugly canvas of fresh red and old purple bruises. He truly disliked the appearance of the round, mottled bruises on his shoulder. He lowered his head above his forearm, gripping the tight skin below his elbow between his incisors. A small line the length of a staple appeared where his teeth had just been. He repeated the process twice more, making a mark at the middle of his forearm and again at his wrist. The one at his wrist was harder to create and he had to bite harder and longer to make it last.

Eren felt better afterwards. He noticed the quiet, uncertain when the shower had turned off. Hurriedly, he put Jean's shirt on and headed back to the bathroom to retrieve his jeans. He expected Jean to be in the kitchen with Marco, but he was still in the bathroom, dressed and standing in front of the mirror, hands gripping the sides of the sink.

Eren entered the bathroom cautiously, the haggard reflection of Jean's eyes in the mirror putting him on alert. Jean startled when eyes that were not his own stared at him from the mirror and he twisted around to see Eren in his long sleeved shirt and boxers.

"Eren..."

"Sorry! I left my clothes in here." Eren picked up his bundle of clothes and left the bathroom to finish getting dressed.

He was sitting with Marco on the couch, waiting for Jean to exit the bathroom so they could meet their friends.

"What's taking him so long?" Marco grumbled. Eren shrugged.

"I'm going to tell him to hurry up." When Marco rose from the couch, Eren fell sideways into the vacated space, the warmth of the seat from Marco's presence feeling nice against his cheek, and he closed his eyes to rest while he waited for his two friends. In the silence of his surroundings his ear picked up the sound of Marco and Jean quickly whispering back and forth. Eren couldn't catch the words, but Jean sounded agitated and Marco was mostly silent, his whispers sounding like questions or soothing explanations which Jean contested with more fast-paced and frightened whispering. The noise was irritating, much harder to block out than talking or yelling because his ears subconsciously chased after the sounds, trying to shape them into words.

Right as Eren sat up in preparation to see what the secrecy was about, Marco returned to the living room, Jean shuffling behind him. Eren peered at them questioningly but Marco was happy-smiling as he herded his friends out the door, and Jean avoided eye contact. Jean claimed the passenger seat so Eren sat in back. He didn't want to go out with everyone from the start and now Jean and Marco were acting strange.

"Can you please drop me off at my dorm? I really don't want to leave that assignment till the last minute more than I already have," Eren tried one last time.

"No!" Jean shouted, surprising everyone with his outburst, himself included. "Stop arguing and hang out with your friends. It's not good for you to be alone so often."

When Jean looked at him through the rearview mirror, Eren made sure to give him his dirtiest glare. This was why he had to hide the truth from Jean. Knowing barely anything, Jean was already treating him like a fragile person who might hurt themselves if he was left alone for a second. I mean, he would, but its not like he was seriously hurting himself. He wasn’t going to kill himself or anything, so Jean needed to relax.

Marco ignored the tension between his friends, concentrating on maintaining a happy air despite what Jean told him earlier. Did Jean really see Eren bite himself? Maybe he was confused. Jean did confess he only saw it through the narrow crack of his bedroom door, but he sounded pretty certain of what he saw. Still, Eren biting himself? Why? Jean argued it was self-harming behavior, but Eren wasn't the type to self harm. He was attractive, had a nice family, and did well in school. Plus he was always smiling and friendly (except when he was angry and yelling). Still, Marco agreed to keep a close eye on Eren and not leave him alone too often.

Everyone was already at the restaurant when they arrived, claiming a long wooden table close to the buffet. Connie and Sasha’s plates were piled with food, but Mikasa and Armin had politely waited for the rest of their friends to arrive before getting anything. Together they went through the buffet, some hopping over to the table that made waffles and omelets, others piling their plate with cold cut grinders and salad. Eren scooped fruit salad onto his plate, scanning the rest of the buffet for something appetizing. He probably should have some protein but the pastries were calling to him. He added a cheese croissant, blueberry muffin, and made a waffle before sitting at the table.

It was as he chewed the bite of muffin in his mouth that he remembered he hadn’t taken his pill today. He would have to remember to take it when he returned to his dorm. Really, it wasn’t such a big deal if he missed taking it once. It was to help control his acne, not handle something serious. He’d survive, it was just mildly irritating that he would only be taking the pill one of the two designated times today.

“You guys are ridiculous,” he heard Marco say, before relenting and accepting tupperware from Sasha to fill. A small smile lifted the corner of Eren’s lips at his friend’s antics, which quickly vanished when he noticed Jean watching him. There was nothing judging about Jean’s look, he had been mimicking the small smile on Eren’s lips, but his smile disappeared too with Eren’s.

Jean had been hoping that being out with friends would lift Eren’s spirits. His friend had seemed a little less energetic of late, but Jean summed it up to the stress of schoolwork, which it might be. For now, Jean would silently observe Eren’s behavior. But he feared the day would come when he had to decide between staying out of Eren’s business and keeping his friendship or pressing his friend to open up and losing him for good this time.


	3. Don’t wanna hand you all my trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate chapter summaries. Why spoil it? All you need to know is that the story tags apply to basically every chapter.

The first thing Eren did that evening when he returned to his dorm was take his pill bottle out from his desk drawer. He twisted off the cap and tapped a single pill into his palm. It was a thin white rectangle, not as terrifying as other pills he had seen. When he first started taking these, he was shocked at the ease with which he could swallow them with a bite of food. Whenever he tried to take one as a kid, he would fail, swallowing the yogurt or applesauce and leaving the pill behind in his mouth. It was awful. He was left with an unpalatable taste on his tongue before he spit the disintegrating pill into his hand, reburying it inside food and trying again.

There was something addictive about swallowing the pill now. He would take a bite of toast with jam and mash it between his teeth, pushing the thin white rectangle into the center of the soft food on his tongue and swallowing back, feeling the lump move down his throat. The ease should have been a good thing - he no longer had to fear choking on it or generally struggling to get it down - but instead it was another sick thrill. He actually looked forward to the next time he could take one and feel the pill fall down his throat. There was probably something wrong with that.

After swallowing his evening dose, Eren poured more pills into his hand. He brushed his finger across them, counting twelve. When he first received his prescription and successfully swallowed the morning dose, it gave him enough false confidence that he placed the evening pill on his tongue and tried to swallow it back with only water, thinking it would fall down his throat just as easy. It didn’t work to his mild disappointment, and slight irritation as he wiped the floor dry of the water that fountained out of his mouth along with the chalky tasting medication.

Eren stared down at the pile of pills in his palm, wondering how suicidal people managed to swallow a bottle of pills. If it were him, he’d have to toss each one back individually with a bite of food. Eren curled his hand, forming a slide for the pills to follow back into the prescription bottle. Swallowing a dozen pills to manage his acne wasn’t going to kill him. Probably. He wasn’t a pharmacist, he didn’t fucking know. It’s not like he wanted to kill himself anyway. He wasn’t suicidal. Probably. He couldn’t help the thoughts that entered his head, just like the times he was driving and wondered what would happen if he turned the wheel sharply to the right and went over the rail into the river. He wasn’t planning to do it, but the thought crossed his mind. Far too often.

Eren brushed his teeth and did a little reading for his Human Ecology class before turning off his light and crawling into bed.


	4. Don’t wanna give you all my demons

Isn’t it funny how quickly things can change?

This morning Eren was filled with unbelieving awe at the perfection of his life. He found a professor willing to work with him on his senior research project, something that had been stressing him out because he needed to do a research project to graduate from the honors college he was a part of. Add to that the internship he was working at this semester offering him a temporary paid position in the summer and Eren was over the moon. He was on track to graduate with honors, he was excited about the classes he was signed up to take senior year, and he had a great internship that wanted to pay him to work for them a little longer, something that would definitely look good on his resume.

How truly shocking that he felt on top of the world this morning, and now he sat at his desk with a slight raw pain emanating from his forearm.

Eren never before thought of himself as a fragile person. He was strong. He didn’t break (completely) when his father chose alcohol over him. Eren cut off ties with his father and continued his life, refusing to let himself be dragged down except for the rare times when he couldn’t help but remember the way his father encouraged him and comforted him when no one else did. Then he felt like shit. Otherwise, Eren was strong. He bounced back.

Then what was with his fragile state of mind? It was the littlest thing that sent him spiraling into a pit of dejection and self-pity. He was scheduled to work this weekend. His sister and mother knew that. Mikasa and his mom made plans to get lunch this Saturday, and Mikasa texted him to see if he wanted to join them.

That was where all this began. Instead of sending out a family group text to see when they were all free to get a meal together, plans were made without him and Eren was invited like a second thought. And worse, when Eren reminded them that he worked this Saturday until 5 PM, they didn’t turn their lunch plans into dinner plans so he could be included.

Eren was once again making toast for dinner, it being the best food to swallow his twice daily medication with, when the pain hit him. Really, it was a bit delayed. It was now Thursday and he had known about these lunch plans since Monday. For some reason, it hurt a lot that his family made plans without him. Eren’s chest felt tight and his breathing was heavy. He hadn’t noticed it happening, but he was halfway hyperventilating as his chest rose and fell quickly and he fought back tears. Eren tried to remind himself that his family loved him. Remember his birthday last year? How his mom bought him that new gaming system he wanted, and an extra game he wasn’t expecting? Or baked him those reeses cup cookies he loved, just because she was thinking of him? His family loved him, he reminded himself. They probably thought it wasn’t a big deal to eat without him. It was just like if you invited a friend to get a meal but they couldn’t make it. It didn’t mean you weren’t friends just because you didn’t reschedule so everyone could go, it just meant that sometimes plans don’t work for everyone and you’ll get a meal together another time.

Eren knew this, but he still felt the desire to cry. Even stronger was the desire to hurt himself. His toast popped up, but he was no longer hungry. More food to make him fat, he bitterly thought. An inane thought, but he was in the mood to hate and pity himself.

He grabbed the toast anyway and spread peanut butter and jelly on it, using it to help him swallow his evening pill. After dinner he brushed his teeth and sat at his desk, full of sadness that he was sure his family never meant to inflict, but it filled him and he gripped his right forearm between his teeth and repeatedly bit. When he dragged his index finger along his skin, the flesh was raised like a bump, and in two places it looked like if he had bit just a little harder he would have broken skin.

Feeling lonely, Eren unlocked his phone and sent a quick text to Marco, a simple “Hey.”  
Maybe Marco could distract him from this mood. In the meantime, Eren went on reddit, examining the askreddit subcategory for something that intrigued him. Before he found a thread to read, his phone buzzed beside him. He unlocked the screen again.

Message Received From: Marco  
Time: 7:44 PM  
Sup

It was stupid to ask, he knew it before he pressed send and wondered if he could delete the sending message before it was too late, but he let the text go.

Message Sent To: Marco:  
Time: 7:45 PM  
Do you think it’s possible I’m bipolar?

It was the wrong road to travel, but the mood he was in had stirred up memories from last year. Last year when he had fallen into a weeklong depression, he had called his mom to ask her what his childhood therapists had said. He had been wondering if what he felt was depression, and if that was what he felt as a child. His childhood seemed so long ago, like it was lived by another person. It was a separate reality from the relatively happy existence he had been living since high school. No, the therapists didn’t think he was depressed, his mom told him. One of them suggested he might have bipolar disorder.

Bipolar disorder. Eren had pulled open a Google window and read up on the symptoms. They didn’t seem to fit him, but he wasn’t certain. He didn’t think his moods were that drastic. Of course he had his ups and downs like everyone else. Wanting a second opinion, Eren had texted his sister. She knew him well, was one of his closest friends. Normally Eren had a terrible memory for exact phrasing. He forgot the reason for fighting with someone an hour after the fight started. Yet his sister’s response was engraved into his mind. Eren had texted Mikasa, asking if she thought he was bipolar. She had texted back that it wouldn’t surprise her. His sibling, someone he spent his entire life around, would not be surprised if he was bipolar.

That response had unhinged him even more. He had nightmares that week, of strangers in a psych ward claiming that he killed one of them and no one believing that he didn’t. It was awful. His emotional state worsened and Armin had to drag him to the dining hall for dinner. Armin was the one who prompted him to schedule an appointment with the university counseling center. He wasn’t able to get an appointment until the end of finals week.

Eren had hated it. In less than ten minutes, the psychologist or therapist or whatever she was had learned that his parent’s marriage was in shambles and his father was an alcoholic that Eren no longer spoke to. She asked him questions he couldn’t answer, questions that were seemingly simple but deeply complex. It wasn’t his job to analyze his thoughts, it was hers. The thirty minute appointment ended, the woman told him she didn’t think he exhibited the signs of someone with bipolar disorder based on their short examination of him, and he left the center relieved but not entirely believing. It wasn’t that Eren wanted to be bipolar, but maybe being bipolar could explain why he was such an angry, unhappy child.

He was digressing. His phone blinked with Marco’s reply.

Message Received From: Marco  
Time: 7:51  
I don’t think so just because bipolar is about extremes and of course I’m not you so I don’t know for sure but it doesn’t seem like you’ve had extreme depression or sadness combined with really high highs

Eren read Marco’s text, then reread it. There was a bubbling feeling in his chest, like he was holding back a giant laugh. Eren had the strangest urge to laugh at Marco’s text but what came out instead was a cry. Sobs wracked through his body and tears poured from his eyes. Eren tried to stop crying, not wanting to deal with a runny and stuffy nose, but as he kept thinking about Marco’s text and the irony of Marco saying he didn’t experience drastic highs then lows, which perfectly summed up his day, he gave in to the crying. He cried until he felt lightheaded. Eren rested his head between his arms which were loosely lying across his desk and shut his eyes, listening to his gulping breaths and feeling the cool air puff against his arm with each exhale. When he was relaxed, Eren grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and blew his nose. After short deliberation, he texted Marco ‘thanks,’ and nothing else.

‘Thanks’ was such a strange response to give, but Eren didn’t know what else to say. ‘K’ was too stand-offish, but he had to send something. He had already waited too long to reply. Reflecting on it, ‘thanks’ was probably the right response though Marco wouldn’t understand. Because of his message, Eren had been able to cry. The feeling had been building up in him all night but he had been unable to break out a tear. Marco’s text did the trick.

Falling asleep was hell, his mind asking what was wrong with him without getting an answer. Eren closed his eyes and waited for morning, hoping the light of day would make him feel better. He just needed to make it to tomorrow.


	5. You’ll have to watch me struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day this will develop a plot. But that day is not today. Here's another chapter of angsty thoughts and no resolution.

I have to get out of here - I can't - I can't stay here. I need to leave. I can't be here anymore - I need to - I need to leave.

The mantra repeated itself in Eren's mind, steadily gaining speed until he no longer finished one sentence before his mind rushed to say another. He felt like the air was being pressed from his lungs and his head was being squeezed on both sides. There was too much pressure surrounding him as he lay on his bed with nothing but a thin blanket on top of him. If he could, he would get in his car tonight and drive to the closest beach. He needed to see the ocean, to watch the peaceful waves with their dark, mysterious depths and have them calm him as the solitude allowed him to think through everything that was troubling him. With no one around but the silent ocean and the moon overhead, he could release the heavy sobs that were currently sitting in his gut like stones weighing him down.

But he couldn't go to the ocean. At least not yet. He had class in the morning, and he shared a car with Mikasa who needed the car tomorrow to get to work. It would be much easier if he didn't have a sister, and not only because then he'd have the car to himself. There were days when they got along so well, Eren could never imagine life without her by his side. He was convinced he would take a bullet for her because life without her would be infinitely worse. And then there were weeks where she was the source of all his unhappiness. His mother never listened to him, always siding with Mikasa even when she claimed she was hearing Eren out. "Work it out." "Don't involve me." That's what his mother always said if she wasn't reminding him that he was slightly older than Mikasa and needed to act more mature. It was infuriating. They both made him want to crash his car into a light post hard enough for an immediate death upon impact. Then his anger faded enough for him to see reason and realize how childish he was being for playing the "once I'm dead then they'll feel sorry for how they treated me" card. He wouldn't be hurting anyone but himself if he killed himself over something so trivial. All he had to do was live long enough to the point where he earned enough money that he could move far away and never contact his family again. Until then, he'd have to rely on them.

Life would be much easier if he didn't care about them. Some days, Eren doubted whether he did care about them. It was more the thought of them, what they could be, the loving family he always wanted but never quite received. He was and always had been misunderstood. Mikasa thought he was immature and brushed him off, not caring for his feelings and believing him to be dramatic. His mother too thought he acted childish. She never took his side, always blindly siding with Mikasa because she was quiet and therefore must be reasonable. Eren hated his family. If only he earned enough to move out now, but he didn't even have $2000 to buy a used car of his own, let alone pay off his college debt and afford a place to live. One more year of school. Then he could move far far away, go backpacking through Europe or live on a farm in the west. It didn't matter, it just had to be far enough away that they couldn't follow him.

Did he mention his birthday was coming up? Well, it was. At first Mikasa agreed to help him by looking for fun things to do and cool new restaurants to try. But she was so immature whenever things didn’t go her way, why did his mom not notice or care? Last week Mikasa wanted to get breakfast with him but didn't tell him until that morning when he already had other plans. When Eren told her she couldn't expect him to be free whenever she was and that she had abandoned their family to spend time with her friends on New Years, she got pissed at him, telling him he needed to stop being so selfish or he would be spending another birthday alone because he was a brat.

Ouch.

Who was the selfish one? How was anything he had said in that conversation selfish? She was the immature brat. Eren needed to forget her. Blood family meant absolutely nothing. Just because she had been nicer to him than usual recently did not mean he had an obligation to put up with her mercurial attitude. If she thought she could treat him like shit and he would stick around because they were "family," she was dumber than shit. She should know better than anyone that Eren didn't view blood family as meaning anything. He picked his family based on who was there for him and treated him well. The majority of their family did not fit that bill. Really, Mikasa and his mother were the only people left, and now he had to discard them too. It was painful dealing with the bullshit way they treated him all the time. Eren needed to leave.

***

Armin invited him to hang out this weekend and even though Eren normally tossed and turned the whole night searching for sleep, he attributed his extra-restlessness to excitement at spending time with Armin. They both far too often became bogged down by their workloads and struggled to spend time together. Eren needed an escape from the cloud of depression following him around and Armin just may be the break of sunshine he needed.  
  
Eren agreed to meet at Armin's research lab where he's been interning this semester. Armin wanted to give Eren a tour and introduce him to the friends he had made. As they meandered down sterile hallways and Armin explained the different projects taking place in each, he added stories about his fellow interns who quickly became his close group of friends. Eren wasn't being replaced, he was still Armin's best friend. He had to shake this stupid jealousy off because it was depressing him more and Armin could tell something was wrong when his smile flickered out too quickly and he couldn't muster the energy to act interested in his surroundings. Why did he have to be this way? Why did he agree to hang out? He wanted to return home and play on his laptop. He would be happier there.

"I'm sorry, this must be really boring to you," Armin apologized for the fifth time that morning.

It's not your fault. Don't apologize. I'm just a depressed sack of shit, don't mind my mood. Eren didn't say any of this, locking it behind his lips. Sometimes Eren thought about admitting what was wrong. He alternated between thinking Armin, Marco, or Jean would be the best person to confide in. Armin was his closest friend but Armin also overreacted and would look at him with sad eyes, internalizing Eren's pain and struggling to make him feel better. Armin would absolutely involve himself in Eren's life and force him to go places to break free from his depression or see a therapist or some other form of well-intended but too intrusive care. Eren hated that. That was why he never spoke of his feelings or told anyone about the trouble at home with his father. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, not in great detail, but just to say he was feeling sad and couldn't pinpoint why and they would just accept it and move on, aware that he might not be in the mood to talk but they wouldn't press him to open up or work on being happy.

Then he envisioned the aftermath of revealing his secrets: his alcoholic father, his suicidal ideations, his self-harm. Eren had witnessed coworkers and classmates carelessly disclose information about their own problems, not worrying about how others would see them differently. Eren envied that honesty. He himself couldn't open up. If he did, he knew he would distance himself from whoever he told. It was the surest way to end a friendship because if there was one thing Eren could not handle it was embarrassment and sharing his secrets would embarrass him. He would become damaged, fragile in the eyes of his friend. They would tiptoe around him. If they went out drinking, his friend might watch him closely to see if the wasted people around them were bothering him or if he like his father was unable to drink responsibly.

Eren was terrified of becoming like his father. He swore off alcohol, demonizing it and anyone whose ideal weekend was getting trashed. Eren saw those people as pitiful. Was their life really so hard that they had to drink to forget it? Weak. He was not like them, would never be like them. Eren recalled freshman year of college when Marco told him it wasn't so bad and that he should try drinking because he might like it. Marco didn't understand, he just kept pressing Eren to give it a chance, that getting drunk was fun. Eren thought about explaining why he hated alcohol, but that would only create the situation he wanted to avoid, where his friend looked at him differently because of the new knowledge they had of him.

"Eren, this is my friend Erwin. He works in the lab with me. Hey, do we have enough drivers to make it to that convention next weekend?"

"Yeah, Moblit agreed to drive," Armin's friend responded.

Eren listened to the two blondes chat about a science convention they were going on a weekend trip to. Armin and his new intern friends. Eren would be at school, probably in his room with his phone on but not lighting up with a notification once.

"Text me when you hear back from Mina and Thomas." Armin nudged him lightly. "Ready?"

"It was nice to meet you," Eren politely said to Erwin whose name would soon float in Eren's mind without a face to match to it.

"You too," Erwin replied, as Armin followed Eren out of the room.

"Is there anything else you want to see?" Eren looked at the glass walls around them, each showing a row of black countertops and wall to floor cabinets filled with beakers, pipets, flasks, and other chemistry equipment.

"I think I'm good."

Armin verified that there was nothing else Eren wanted to look at, which there wasn't, before leading them out of the research facility.

"What do you want to do now?"

Go home. Sleep. Sit in front of my computer with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels and binge watch a show. Be alone. Think about how sad I am but be unable to cry.

"Want to grab lunch?"

"Sure." Armin led them to a small café. No longer surrounded by the reminder of Armin's life outside of their friendship, Eren's mood improved and as he munched on his French fries, he energetically chatted with his best friend about their summer plans.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," Armin assured seriously.

Eren hummed, but didn't continue and they returned to mindless, lighthearted chatter. Eren appreciated that. If he were in Armin's place, he would have annoyingly pestered him to tell him the secret. Armin didn't push, and Eren again considered one day opening up to him. He could only run in circles in his own mind for so long before he either opened up to someone or broke.


End file.
